


Lost and Found

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Exile, Gardening, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: A day in the life of Kylo Ren, ex-Supreme Leader, in exile.





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: “So... what are we now?”

Kylo wakes with the sunrise, sits up in bed and peers through the narrow window out over landscape usually ravaged by scouring wind and pounding rain. It’s the silence that disturbs him. The nightly rainstorms that batter his refuge calm his mind, help him to focus on the here and now, the peace that comes from having no ambition other than to exist to see one more twilit evening descend into night-dark. He looks at the sky: pale yellow and pink, light instead of brooding and coppery grey. He will go outside today. 

The thought makes him giddy. Kylo stretches and rises, dresses his spare form in old robes, once black but now faded to grey and frayed, a daily reminder of a different time when he was a different person. They drown him. He hitches the outer garment up and ties a rope-belt tight around his waist to stop from tripping on the hem. 

There are chores to do. Kylo concentrates on each task—he must not let his mind wander. He sweeps and mops where his squat stone dwelling failed against the wind and the rain and decides that he will take the opportunity of a break in the storms to mend the roof. Once finished inside, he goes out and walks around his home, surveying for any external damage. There is not much. Whoever first built the thick walls that now shelter the once-feared Kylo Ren has done a good job. He turns to look at his garden: a plot dug out slowly during his first two years of exile as a way to keep busy and work off his fury with physical labour. The plants that yield edible fibrous roots are showing green shoots above the soil, and the fruit-bearing vines that evolved to take advantage of the smallest glimpse of the sun are growing so fast Kylo thinks he could watch them. He does watch for a while, until the fear of slipping into a meditative trance makes him rub and shake his bony limbs then return to the stone hut for his tools. He plans to dig another plot and maybe plant cuttings of the stunted trees that huddle in groups here and there, providing tart berries that stain his fingers red and bring on a mild state of euphoria.

It’s while he has his hands in the wet soil that the force invades, and he falls to the side, curling up and closing his eyes against the unwanted vision, crying out as if to ward it off. Something is changing; someone is coming for him today. He makes himself stand up and he shakes and scrapes the mud from his robe. For a few minutes he simply breathes, eyes closed, then he turns and enters his home. He gathers up the few items he considers essential, packs the ration bars he has saved for exactly this emergency, and leaves without looking back. 

He makes it as far as the cliff above the stony beach, where he sometimes comes to fish if the sea is calm enough, before he is found. A call behind him makes him turn and his hand reaches for the side of his belt—a reflex action from years ago—but his lightsaber is not there. It’s no force user they’ve sent for him and the man is alone. Kylo frowns.  
“Is that it?” he shouts. “Am I considered so weak that they send one man alone to capture me?”  
The man stops and holds out his hands. He is unarmed, although his hooded robe might conceal weapons. His hands rise slowly to his hood and he pushes it back to show a face that is still familiar from memories and dreams despite the years of exile. Kylo thinks that his heart might stop at the sight of those translucent green eyes and copper hair only slightly dulled with grey.  
“Nobody sent me, Kylo Ren.” He takes a step forward. “I’ve been chasing rumours. Searching for you.”  
“You found me, Hux.” Kylo sighs. “Or is that Supreme Leader Hux with me out of the way?”  
Hux is shaking his head and laughing but soon breaks into a sob. He half-sits, half-collapses to the ground.  
“You vanished! You left! After that last battle with Rey. I was sure you were dead. Why else would you not come back? I stepped in as Supreme Leader but... but it didn’t go the way I planned.” Hux rubs his face then clenches his fists and pounds the tough grass. “It’s all over, Kylo. The First Order is done for, scattered by infighting. The republic is in disarray. The galaxy is fractured into petty factions and ruled piecemeal by pirates, warlords and corrupt senators.”  
“So, what are we now? I am not coming back. Why are you here?” Kylo steps towards Hux but stays out of reach. “Why did you have to find me?”

Hux regards his hands, stained green and brown, and rubs at them. It’s a minute before he speaks and Kylo can feel the turmoil in his mind.  
“I... wanted to see you. I thought we could start over. Without Snoke. Without the First Order or the Republic or the Resistance.”  
“Start over? Start _what_ over! I’m tired of fighting, Hux. I want to be left in peace.”  
Hux starts to get up. It’s painful to watch and Kylo can’t stop himself from offering a hand. Hux takes it and pulls himself upright. He straightens his robe and raises his head stiffly. The action is so familiar to Kylo that he smiles. Hux sees it and lurches forward and suddenly Kylo has Hux in his arms. Hux rests a hand on Kylo’s cheek and Kylo has to blink rapidly to suppress the unexpected tears that threaten to spill over. Hux feels good in his embrace, a light but solid presence, and Kylo holds him securely.  
Hux rests his forehead on Kylo’s shoulder. “I only needed... to know if the rumours were true. If you were alive. I couldn’t bear not knowing, thinking you might be alive and... Kylo, are you happy here?”  
Kylo swallows and closes his eyes, and at last his tears flow silently. He thinks back on the moments of despair early in his exile when he’d have given anything to see Hux again, to have Hux in his arms, forgiving his failure and asking him to return. Voice thick, he says, “Happy is the wrong word. What will you do?”  
Hux turns his head to kiss Kylo’s cheek. “Well then. I could stay or go. You could leave with me or not.”  
“I can’t make you any promises about tomorrow,” says Kylo. “But I would like you to stay tonight.”


End file.
